Slow Fade
by xXxDaughteroftheKingxXx
Summary: Because, when you let go of yourself, the consequences don't happen right then. They slowly begin to pile up, and when you finally realize that you're in over your head, it's too late. ONESHOT: Octavian-centric.


_**Slow Fade**_

_**By: xXxDaughteroftheKingxXx**_

**AN: Well, this story came out of nowhere. I swear, it just randomly popped into my mind, and I started writing it. You all said that you wanted me to write an Octavian story, and well, here it is.**

**Warning: Extreme angstyness and tragedy may occur.**

**Don't say I didn't warn you.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO/HoO. **

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><p><em>It's a slow fade when you give yourself away.<em>

_It's a slow fade when black and white turn to gray._

_And thoughts invade,_

_Choices are made,_

_The price will be paid when you give yourself away. _

_People never crumble in a day..._

_It's a slow fade._

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><p><em>i. first encounters <em>

If looks could kill, you would've gladly had Percy Jackson dead at your feet.

How _dare _he. How dare he just... _waltz _in, with his disgusting _graecus _skills, to _your _camp. How dare he expect to be accepted by the Romans, when he is a slimy graecus. And how _dare _he come and taken _your _position.

After being at Camp Jupiter for not even a _week_, Jackson had managed to unrightfully _steal_ what was yours, _obviously _by seducing Reyna—weak, spineless Reyna who couldn't stand her ground. You scoff at how easily she gave into the graecus' demands.

Now, your new _Praetor _had just announced that a whole _ship _of _Greeks _would be allowed into Camp Jupiter. Reyna was glad to oblige, and you now had at least twenty teenagers in disgusting orange shirts stepping onto Roman ground.

You can't help but notice that both the Praetors are wrapped in the arms of their significant other, besides each other.

_Disgusting, _you think, scowling. Your hands tighten around the _pilum _and the stuffed animal, and try to imagine the bear as Percy Jackson as you continue to grip its neck in your hand...

Then, a flash of red catches your eye.

You turn to see a teenage girl, perhaps a year or two younger than you, impatiently tapping the shoulder of the blonde in Jackson's arms, as if waiting for her chance to hug the Praetor. You raise an eyebrow as Blondie releases Jackson, and the ginger tackles him into a hug.

_Well, then, _you think wryly. _Jackson has not one, not two, but _three _suitors. _

The teenager boy within you is wolf-whistling and cheering on his antics, but the augur within you frowns down upon this. Yet, still deep down inside you, the part that wishes to see Percy Jackson fall smiles crookedly as a thought strikes you.

_Yes, _you chuckle. _How lucky of a situation do we have here. Three girls that have captured Jackson's heart... and three girls that might be used to control him._

_[You learn later that you're back down to just two girls, because the red-headed one—Rachel Elizabeth Dare—is the virgin Oracle of Apollo.]_

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><p><em>ii. second thoughts <em>

The days following the departure of the _Argo II_, you begin to change your mind about Rachel Dare not meaning anything to Percy Jackson.

You don't very well like the Fifth Cohort, where those slimy Greeks are staying, but in order to learn more of the campers from Camp Half-Blood, you must force yourself to... ah, _befriend_ them.

It's a difficult task.

The Greeks, you learn, are a very stubborn, unorganized group of teenagers that are automatically wary of you. Their eyes say something—you remind them of someone from their past. Someone of which people no longer speak of. Someone whose name can cause utmost chaos within their pathetic camp.

Your lips curl into a smile as you realize that they may be intimidated by you.

Most of the Greeks steer clear of you, making it exceedingly difficult to discover new information of your nemeses. As the first week of their stay at Camp Jupiter comes to a close, you sigh and force yourself to speak to the one person who does not look at you like the others do.

_Rachel Dare. _

The second time you truly pay attention to her, you walk up to the Oracle, who is sitting at a table in a cafe, and smile through gritted teeth. A minute passes by before she finally acknowledges your presence with a chipper smile and a, "May I help you?"

You grind you teeth together even more as you force out, "Rachel Dare, I believe?" When she nods, you add, "I'm Octavian. Augur of Camp Jupiter."

Things seem to go uphill from there as she politely smiles and invites you to sit with her. You talk for half an hour or so until you finally mention the fact that she is the Oracle. That seems to strike a nerve, especially when you (stupidly) add that "Oracles are a very unreliable source."

She doesn't seem to appreciate that statement, because she glares at you with those piercing green eyes, gathers her things, and leaves, but not before spitting out, "Says the boy who uses the entrails of _teddy _bears to read the future."

You're left at that cafe table, dumbfounded, angry, and ready to get back at Rachel Dare for saying that. Just when you thought that maybe she was different from the other Greeks, she turns around and says that.

_[You know later that your second thoughts of Rachel Dare were wrong.]_

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><p><em>iii. third time's the charm <em>

The third time that you pay attention to Rachel Dare is a difficult day for you.

_She_ is pushing you to terminate yet another camper, and you can't help but protest, because this is would be your third attempt at murder, and your second success. People, namely Reyna and the Greeks, were becoming more and more suspicious of you, and while you are a good speaker, you're beginning to run out of excuses.

So, the entire day, you're slashing and hacking at teddy bears, grumbling at how you can barely see the gods' will, and how it would make life much easier if that accursed harpy—whatever her name was—would just quote some prophecies for you. The sheer control that could come from a few lines that the monster could quote... the knowledge would be inestimable.

You're surprised when, later that day, Rachel Dare shows up, holding a stuffed bear and wearing an apologetic smile.

"I never got to apologize for the way I acted," she says in a voice that almost makes your wariness diminish. "I... I guess I had heard things about you, and I judged you off of those things, not off of my personal encounter with you. I'm sorry."

When she holds out the bear to you, you take with cautiously, giving her a puzzled look. Something within you ignites... you've never had anyone treat you this kindly before. It was always, _Octavian is up to no good. Don't trust him,_ and people listening to that statement, before getting to know you.

Of course, most of the time, what is said about you is actually _true_, but you like to let people know that you're not always some crazy, power-hungry fool like people tend to think you are.

"Thank you," you say when you finally come to your senses. "I... apology accepted, Rachel Dare."

A smile tugs at her lips, and she brushes a piece of that curly red hair from her eyes. "I'd better get going," she says. "See you around, Octavian."

When you're finally alone, you look at the teddy bear hungrily and want to tear it to shreds. Perhaps this will be the stuffed animal that finally lets you see the gods' wills.

But, you can't bring yourself to offer the bear to the gods.

_["Third time's a charm," they say, and you can't help but think how true that quote is.]_

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><p><em>iv. fourth love<em>

Only four people in your life have you considered worthy of your love.

The first person was your mother, who selflessly gave her life for you and your sister when a monster attacked you at the tender age of five. You still remember that day clearly, and it hurts to think of it. You were so young, and losing your mom has stayed with you since.

The second person was none other than your baby sister, who was among the demigods that were killed in a battle when you were just thirteen years old. The images of her being stabbed are still crystal clear in your mind, and you promised yourself that you would avenge her killer. During the battle of Mount Tam, you find the man who murdered her, now a full grown man, and kill him without any regrets.

The third person is none other than Reyna, whom you met just a year after your sister was killed. She was just a child then—not even thirteen years old—and your ice cold heart melted when you met her. She might have been a child, but she had been through things that most adults hadn't. You felt that you could relate to her, despite not knowing her all that well. She became the first person you loved since Abigail.

Your fourth love—the most recent—is Rachel Dare, who slowly made her way into your heart with her crazy antics and fiery personality. She isn't at all like a regular mortal girl; she is passionate, insane, and many other things all wrapped up into one package. You have no clue how, but somehow, Rachel managed to make you love her. It seemed inevitable not to.

It started out by becoming friends with the Oracle. She seemed nice enough, and after the teddy bear incident, you felt drawn to her. After a few weeks, you had learned that Rachel Dare was the daughter of a famous businessman who specialized in cutting down forests and such and putting up more businesses. She hated him for that, you also learned, and she wanted to do something different with her life. She didn't want to be the spoiled daughter of the filthy rich, who went through life getting anything she wanted.

You couldn't help but see the distinct personality differences between you and Rachel.

If you were in her position, you would use all that money and fame to get to a seat of _power_. You would get everything that you had ever wanted, and no one could get in your way. You would take total advantage of being wealthy, unlike Rachel had done.

But, of course, you and Rachel are two different people. You are two opposites, and you still can't wrap your mind around the fact that you had fallen for someone so down-to-earth.

_[When _she _commands you to kill Rachel Dare, you can't bring yourself to do it.]_

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><p><em>v. fifth victim<em>

_She_ is constantly pushing you to take the life of Rachel Elizabeth Dare.

You can barely sleep now, and your sanity is slipping right through your fingers. Everytime you fall asleep, you are plagued with dreams—terrible dreams of Rachel being killed by none other than _you_. She promises that if you don't do the deed soon, she will taken control, and will kill Rachel for you.

There have been many times where you go to Rachel in the night, _pilum_ in hand, ready to kill her, and have stopped yourself short. You just can't bring yourself to plunge to point into her heart. You can't have her blood on your hands.

You can't do this anymore.

Gaea has pushed you around for long enough, and you want so badly to be able to break her control on you. You feel like a puppet on strings; no longer commanding your own life. You are already too far gone, and no matter how badly you want to confess your wrongs and turn your back on Gaea, you cannot.

Long ago, you might have been able to turn from Gaea, but it's too late to now. If you betray her, she will reveal your dirty little secret, and Camp Jupiter will be rid of you. You wish you had known how far this would get, because while vengeance against Percy Jackson sounded enticing at first, you know now that you should have never done what you did. You have killed four people, and nearly killed Gwen as well.

Death seems to be your only escape.

Gaea is pushing you into killing Rachel Dare, but you will not do it. She expects that a fifth person be killed by midnight, and as you think of her grip on you, you know what you must do.

You're standing outside, bathed in moonlight, _pilum_ in your shaking hands. You pray silently for redemption to your grandfather, Apollo. You begin to hear her whisper, _"What do you think you are doing?"_

_Finding release, _you think back, as a tear slips from your eyes, and you plunge the _pilum_ into your chest.

_[Your fifth victim was supposed to be Rachel Dare. Instead, your fifth victim was yourself.]_

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><p><em>vi. six feet under<em>

You are sent to the Fields of Asphodel, which is better than the Fields of Punishment, you muse.

You have barely set foot into the never-ending fields when you begin to forget. It's like your entire life is a déjà vu moment, and you can't quite seem to put your finger on it.

You have no idea how long it has been since you died, but you do know that the memories are fading rapidly. You can barely remember your name; you can't think of what your sister's name was; your mother is nothing but a mere image in your mind now.

Time has no meaning, but you know you must have been dead for a long time, because it seems that your only memory left is one of a red-headed girl with piercing green eyes, many freckles, and a beautiful smile.

She's laughing brightly like there isn't a care in her world, and you long to just reach out to her and touch her. Then, slowly, the image of the girl fades, until all you have left is nothingness.

You are completely empty. Broken. Nothing.

Everything that you once were, everything that you once knew has all been forgotten. It has faded into the never-ending nothingness of the Fields of Asphodel.

_[Who are you? You don't even know anymore. You merely walk the fields for eternities. Time goes on, and everything you used to know has faded.]_

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><p><strong>AN: That was incredibly angsty and tragic.<strong>


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